Night of the Storm

ANYA'S POV

Night fell over the mountain with the weight of a predator in no hurry. By ten o’clock, the north wind began to hammer against the windows as if it meant to tear them down, and a winter chill swept through the valley. The first strike came soon after: a sharp crack of thunder boomed across the roof, and every light went out at once. Only the orange glow of the fireplace remained, barely cutting through the dark.

The heating died with the power. For them — warm-blooded, with fur woven into their very bones — this cold was nothing. But for me, a human trapped within these stone walls, the air seeped in like icy needles, straight to the marrow.

I sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in the thickest duvet I could find, shivering so hard my teeth chattered. I even imagined the blocker on my skin had frozen solid too.

Azkarion stood by the fire, shining a torch over a map. When he heard my frustrated whimper, he turned toward me.

"You’re freezing," he said, stepping slowly closer. In the dark, his grey eyes glowed in the firelight.

"I’m fine," I lied, pulling my knees to my chest, though my breath came in gasps that gave me away. "It’s just… the air up here."

"You are not fine, Anya. Your body was never built to take this without warmth," he replied, in that steady tone of his. Without another word, he slipped beneath the sheets and settled right beside me.

The heat rolling off him was immense, almost overwhelming — like curling up beside a living fire.

"What are you doing?" I asked, trying to shift away, though every inch I moved toward the edge felt as if I were stepping out into the open wind.

"Making sure my partner doesn’t freeze to death before the meeting," he said, low and calm. He slipped his arm around my back, and before I could protest, drew me tight against his chest.

I collided with his hard torso and caught my breath. He wrapped both arms around me, tugging the duvet up to cover us both, sealing us inside a warmth that filled every corner. I pressed close to him, his chin resting on my shoulder, and his scent — pine and storm — wrapped around me completely, driving every other thought from my mind.

"Azkarion… this wasn’t part of the deal," I whispered, though my body never hesitated: it curled into him, seeking shelter, as if it already knew this was where I belonged.

"Rules won’t save you if the temperature drops another few degrees, little liar," he murmured against my ear, his warm breath raising gooseflesh all over my skin. "Stay still and rest."

Only the crackle of burning logs and the wind whistling against the glass broke the silence. Slowly, the cold that had clamped around me faded, replaced by a deep, all-consuming heat that spread through every limb.

But being this close was a test of another kind. I felt his heart beat slow and strong against my back, the tension in his muscles, and his large, protective hand resting firm on my waist — a hold that felt like far more than just warding off the chill.

Minutes passed, or maybe hours. I thought he had fallen asleep, but his posture stayed taut: he was awake, watching over the dark.

"What are you thinking about?" I dared to ask, very softly.

He took a moment to answer. His hand shifted just enough, brushing lightly over my shirt, and the contact made my skin prickle.

"I’m thinking how easy it would be for me to destroy myself through you," he confessed, his voice rough and raw, so honest it left me frozen. "Everyone in my pack wants my place. Gideon wants my head. But you… you are the only one who has walked in here holding the power to hand me over to them all with one single word about who you really are. And yet here you stay, shivering in my bed, standing up for me before the elders."

I turned slowly in his arms until we were face to face. His grey eyes held mine, intense enough to steal the breath from my lungs. There was barely any space left between us.

"I will never betray you, Azkarion," I said, meeting his gaze with every ounce of truth I had. "I will keep my end of the bargain until the very last day."

He smiled, a smile touched with dark sorrow and a longing he had clearly carried for a very long time. His hand rose to my neck, cupping my face with a tenderness that clashed with his strength.

"That is the problem, Anya," he murmured, his lips brushing mine so lightly I trembled all over again. "The contract says you will leave when a year is up. But my wolf does not understand paper, or dates."

He tilted his head a little further, closing the last of the distance between us.

"If when all of this is over, you are still this close…" he whispered against my mouth, a promise that burned and chilled me all at once "…I will never let you go."